


Long Stories

by normativejean



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normativejean/pseuds/normativejean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Port Charles makes very little sense to outsiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written/posted back in February, so CLEARLY not canon-compliant. But in my head, this is how things went down post-Sonny shooting an unarmed cop (because I like to pretend, for a multitude of reasons, that the mob is not the moral center of this show). Beta'd by the awesome empressearwig.

It was late, even by hospital standards, but at least it was quiet. Robin’s time on the night shift had taught her to never take for granted any moments of silence.

The last few days had been especially chaotic, with gunshots, paternal revelations, and criminal investigations all hitting the surgical floor at the same time. Robin wondered if it was a form of Stockholm Syndrome that her first thought when everything started had been _“Must be a Friday.”_

The whole Dominic-is-Dante-is-Sonny’s-son thing was enough to make Robin’s head spin. Her primary concern that first day had been navigating the dual minefields that were her husband’s gigantic surgical ego and her friend’s threatening of mob vengeance on the chief of staff. And she had managed both with aplomb, if she were to indulge in some Patrick Drake-like self-flattery, at least until Sonny had been hauled out of GH in handcuffs, screaming at the police. Robin wasn’t sure she’d even gasped in shock at any point during the events.

It was just one more long story in Port Charles’s history that would never make sense to anyone who hadn’t lived it. The week had been insane, and a few night shifts to catch up on lab time and paperwork were exactly what she needed. She had thought so, anyway, but the peace and quiet of her office weren’t enough to make Robin’s eyes focus on the charts strewn across her desk. She didn’t know when it had started, but lately it felt like Robin always finished most of her chart notes out at the Nurse’s Station. Her most productive work always seemed to be done on the surgical floor, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hospital staff, patients, and the occasional gun-toting mobster.

Robin was actually glad that Patrick wasn’t there, instead at home with their daughter, most likely asleep. They’d been at odds over everything this week, and she needed a few shifts without their increasingly volatile interactions. She wasn’t sure when Patrick’s ego had become so inflated that she couldn’t bring it back to manageable levels, or when she had become the sort of person who just stood there while someone she loved hurled accusations at her. The week had left her more exhausted than she’d felt since the height of the PPD.

She’d needed the break, and, more frighteningly, needed the time at work away from Patrick. So she’d gone to Steven and requested a few night shifts, and he’d complied without question. Robin hated that her actions that week were so noticeably erratic that needing to be away from her triggers – Patrick, Patrick, Lisa, and Patrick – had seemed normal. But the quiet had turned from a refuge into a haunting silence, and Robin now Robin found herself replaying everything from the past week, trying to pinpoint what had happened.

“I need a change of scenery.” Robin’s voice echoed in her office. Grabbing a few of her more pressing charts, she left her office on the seventh floor, where neurology and pathology were located, and headed for the tenth.

***

It was definitely a sign of spending too much time with her husband that she could accomplish more around surgeons than researchers these days.

“Wonderful.” Robin watched the elevator floors pass by. “I’ve got Stockholm Syndrome and codependency issues. And Lainey thought she was done with me.”

“A- _hem_.”

Robin sighed; of _course_ the doors would open while she was still talking to herself. She met Epiphany’s eyes steadily, giving nothing away. It was the best way to deal with the nurse who all but ran the hospital – act like nothing was wrong, and she would eventually deem you unworthy of her attention.

After four years of Epiphany actively confronting her and Patrick, Robin was something of an expert on the woman.

“Hello, Epiphany.” Robin strolled across the room casually, setting her charts on the station desk and opening one. “Having a good evening?”

She didn’t look up, but she could feel Epiphany’s assessing gaze. Finally, Robin heard, “Oh, were you talking to me? Because I couldn’t be sure, what with your little entrance just now.”

Robin continued writing, already finding that her thoughts were clearer just by being around another person. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mm-hm.” But Epiphany said nothing else, so Robin considered it a win.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, and it didn’t take long for Robin to find that her progress on her patient charts was slowing down again. She didn’t know what her problem was lately; it never used to be a problem to get through her notes. This was where her insights into her patients’ conditions would influence their treatment whenever she wasn’t around.  
Patient charts were the lifeblood of doctors everywhere; surely marriage to Patrick hadn’t rendered her completely incapable of simply getting her work done—

“Lord in Heaven, what does that boy want now?”

Robin’s head shot up at Epiphany’s frustrated voice. “What’s wrong?”

Epiphany waved her off. “That fool detective has been hitting the call button almost every damn hour today, asking to be released.”

Robin couldn’t help the startled laugh that escaped her. “You’re kidding! He does remember that he was shot a few days ago, right? And that he’s recovering from major surgery to save his life?”

“Oh, he remembers,” Epiphany snorted, “he just doesn’t seem to think that the rules apply to him. Thinks he’s healing just fine, in his expert medical opinion, and doesn’t understand why we won’t let him out of the hospital to heal at home.”

“Okay, I hate to say it,” Robin smiled, “but _that_ sounds a lot like Sonny.”

Epiphany shook her head. “I swear, if he really thinks that he can just bug the staff until we get too sick of him, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll sedate him if I have to.”

Robin chuckled. “Maybe that’s a little extreme. Tell you what, why don’t I go talk to him? I’ve had a lot of experience dealing with cops who don’t know when to listen to their doctors.”

“Go on, then.” Epiphany waved Robin off, effectively dismissing her and returning to her own paperwork.

Robin gathered up her charts, and threw Dante’s on top of the pile for good measure, and headed off for his room.

***

The police officer stationed outside Dante’s door as part of the twenty-four hour protective detail her Uncle Mac had assigned after naming Sonny as his shooter smiled when she arrived. Robin was friendly with most members of the PCPD, even the ones on Sonny’s payroll. She didn’t know who they were, but given her relationships to both Mac and Sonny, she figured that meant she was safe with any of them.

Robin knocked softly before entering, just in case he’d actually fallen asleep between hitting the nurse call button and her arriving. She heard a quiet, raspy, “Come in,” though, so she guessed not.

“Hey there,” Robin said, smiling at Dante. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“Dr. Robin Scorpio, wife of Dr. Patrick Drake, and, inexplicably, a close friend of local mobster Sonny Corinthos,” he reeled off with a tired grin. “My heart got shot, not my brain.”

Robin closed the door behind her and set the charts down on the table, flipping Dante’s open to his most recent vital readings. “Got it all. Not bad, Detective. Guess that takes care of the neuro portion of my check-up.”

Dante huffed out a breath and pressed his head against his pillows in frustration. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey,” Robin shrugged. “You press the call button, you risk someone actually coming in and checking up on you.”

“I wasn’t actually expecting anybody to come in at this time of night,” Dante defended sheepishly. “Or at least, I didn’t think I’d be pulling a doctor in here.”

Robin made a dismissive noise as she examined his monitors and made some notes in his chart. “You should thank me, you know,” she said. “Because Nurse Johnson almost did come in here, and she’d be bearing Phenobarbital.”

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, Dante didn’t hide his grimace. “Nurse Johnson scares me.”

“She scares everybody,” Robin replied, flipping the chart closed. “Its part of her…charm.”

Dante laughed. “Nice, doc.”

She shrugged, pulling the chair up beside the bed and sitting down. “Besides, this way I can say I did my dad a favor and spared a cop from being sedated by her. Again.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “Should I even ask?”

“He got really sick a couple of years ago, and, well,” she grinned conspiratorially, “long story short, let’s just say that he and Epiphany got along even worse than you and she do.”

“I don’t know if I should feel relieved for myself or sorry for your dad.” Dante looked at her. “Is he doing better now?”

Robin felt the familiar rush of gratitude that Robert had pulled through the chemo. “Yeah, he’s been in remission for over a year now.”

“Good,” Dante said, looking away. “That’s…good.”

Robin frowned at the change in tone. “You okay?”

Dante snorted, carefully raising a hand to rub his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that ‘okay’ has lost all meaning for me after this week.”

That was most definitely an understatement, Robin knew. “Yeah.”

She stood up, preparing to leave, when she felt Dante’s hand reach out for hers. “Hey, um,” he stuttered, “Um, listen. Would you mind staying for a while?”

Robin looked at her watch. “It’s after midnight. You don’t think you should try to get some sleep? You know, work on healing?”

“I’m up and down all day anyway,” he said. He lowered his eyes from hers. “Right now, I’d just be awake with my own thoughts. And I really don’t want to deal with my own thoughts.”

Robin understood that all too well lately. Picking up one of her patient charts, she sat down. “As long as you don’t mind me getting some work done while we talk.”

“Not a problem. Thanks.”

***

It had been a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Robin again found herself concentrating better just by being around another person. They really didn’t know each other, which Robin found surprising considering all the people they had in common. In a way, they were even closer now, since Sonny was a kind of family to both of them, though she was sure that Dante wasn’t thinking about him that way.

Stealing a glance, she watched Dante lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The guy looked better than he should have after nearly dying from a gunshot to the chest a week ago, but she could see shadows on his face. Robin bet they had little to do with exhaustion, however; he’d been through emotional hell as much as physical. She had lived through the fallout of her own parent’s choices and knew how that could go.

Of course, given Robin’s own choices lately, it was a wonder she’d ever been upset with her parents. Robin still didn’t have an explanation that made sense in her own head about why she had gone off on Patrick for keeping Olivia’s secret. She loved Sonny, and would always consider him a friend, but shooting a cop was something she just couldn’t rationalize, and it certainly wasn’t something she could ever forgive.

Robin knew better than anyone the kind of life Sonny led, and she empathized with anyone who tried to protect a child from it. The truth was always better than a lie, she still believed that, but given where this lie had led…

Why, _why_ had she gone off on Patrick like that? Or, more importantly, why hadn’t she fought back against his accusations about her history with paternity secrets? Patrick was the last person who could throw stones on this issue, not after his terrible response to Robin revealing that Nikolas was Spencer’s father. Hell, he hadn’t even had the decency to tell her that the condom broke the night they made Emma, when he’d clearly known about it early enough to be on the HIV protocol before Robin even found out she was pregnant. Why was she acting as irrational as when she’d had PPD?

Oh, God…

But no, she was still being checked regularly by Kelly; her hormone levels were fine, and Lainey had sworn that she was not only mentally healthy again, but she was physically ready to be off the antidepressants. So why had this week been like the roller coaster of a year ago, when she was too exhausted to do anything except get defensive and run away? And why was Patrick suddenly at odds with her over everything personal and professional?

“Hey, you get lost in there?”

Robin blinked and sat up, Dante’s voice shocking her out of her ruminations. “Huh?”

Dante chuckled quietly. “Sorry, but you looked like you were getting kind of lost in your own head. That’s all I’ve been doing lately, and it’s never a good place to be. You want to talk about it?”

Robin eyed him curiously, feeling a smile quirk on her lips. “Do I want to divulge my personal secrets to a guy who I not only don’t know very well, but who is recovering from major surgery and _definitely_ doesn’t need additional stress?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it _exactly_ like that.” Dante shifted carefully, trying to inch up on his bed, with limited success.

“Here,” Robin said, setting the chart aside. “Let me help you.” She held his pillows in place while pushing the button to raise the bed back. “Is that making it any easier?”

Dante grimaced, but managed to move himself into the position he’d aimed for. “Yeah, thanks.” His face relaxed as he settled in. “Glad that worked, doc, because otherwise you were gonna have to try and lift me yourself.”

“Hey, I’m stronger than I look.” Robin smiled and sat back down.

“Uh-huh.”

Dante clearly didn’t believe that, but that was fine. Robin could disprove his notions once he could fight back; Uncle Mac had always liked bringing his girls into the PCPD to help with combat “demonstrations.”

“So,” he continued, though his expression seemed more guarded now. “If you don’t want to talk about your own things, that’s fine. Believe me, I get that better than anyone right now.”

“Mmm.” Robin nodded. “I think this is the first night all week I’ve seen your mom leave.”  
Dante shrugged. “I finally convinced her I would survive a night in the excellent hands of Port Charles’s finest doctors. But it figures, right?” he laughed bitterly. “All I’ve wanted since I woke up was some peace and quiet, and now that I have it, I don’t want it.”

“Mm,” Robin chuckled ruefully. “I know how that goes.”

“Yeah?” Dante cocked a half-grin at her. “You got a panicky Italian mama, too?”

“I grew up with an Italian grandmother,” she grinned. “But more importantly, I was a little girl who grew up in a family of cops.”

“Ooh,” Dante winced. “Yeah, that’s rough.”

Robin nodded sympathetically. “Finding out you had a family you never knew about isn’t easy.”  
“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“I am. But _that_ is another story for another time,” she laughed. Dante nodded and watched her carefully, seeming to consider his next words. Robin had a fairly good idea of what he might ask; they hadn’t spoken for long at Claudia’s ill-fated birthday party, he had been surprised to find out that someone like Sonny could have such a long relationship with someone like her.

“Okay,” he finally said. “This is going to be completely out of line, but I’m gonna ask it anyway.”

“How am I friends with someone like Sonny?”

Dante chuckled weakly. “Well, um…yeah, actually.”

Robin shifted against the hard back of the chair, tucking her legs beneath her. Good to know she could still read people. Or maybe her friendship with Sonny really did make as little sense as it seemed.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Dante said. “I saw firsthand how charming and smooth the man could be. I get being friendly with him, but the way he talked about you at Claudia’s party made it seem like you were really _friends_.”

“Well, I guess the simplest answer is that we _are_ friends.” Robin shrugged a little helplessly at that, because, well, it was the simplest form of the truth. She knew how it looked from the outside, and most of the time Robin herself couldn’t pinpoint how they were friends; it was the why that bonded them.

Dante opened his mouth to question further, so Robin held up a hand to stop him. “Sorry. I know that’s not an answer. It’s the truth, but it’s not what you were asking, was it?”

“I just don’t get it, you know?” He rubbed lightly at his chest, just to the side of where Robin knew the bullet had pierced him. “What could you possibly have in common?”

“Ah, see,” Robin said, “you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not what we have in common, but who. I’m guessing there wasn’t much on Sonny’s personal history in the case files?”

A slow headshake was her answer. “Nah, it’s too dangerous, in case I accidentally said something I wasn’t supposed to know. Besides, it’s not like I would need to know much else besides his family and his closest business associates anyway.” He paused, looking over at her the same way Mac always did when he was trying to figure out what his girls were keeping from him. “You had someone in common. But people don’t tend to form life-long bonds until things get bad. You _lost_ someone in common, didn’t you?”

Robin would give him credit where it was due; Dante was intelligent. He’d have to be to survive undercover for so long, but it was heightened by cop instincts for reading situations. “Do you know the name Stone Cates?”

Dante frowned. “The AIDS wing here at the hospital? I know that Sonny provided the funding to build it and makes a substantial donation every year. Who was he to you guys?”

It didn’t hurt anymore to talk about it. After her first full year in Port Charles, finally having grown up and starting a relationship with real potential to go somewhere, the brief bout of survivor’s guilt had thrown Robin for a loop. Even alive, even with Jason, it had never really felt like moving on, not the way it had with Patrick. The full reality of all she had done and become, of who she had the potential to be, hit her in a way it never had before. Now, though, she could finally remember Stone the way he wanted: with love and affection for what was. She smiled as she spoke about him.

“Stone was like a younger brother to Sonny,” she said. “He was my first love, back in high school.”

“The AIDS wing.” Dante filled in the blanks. “He got AIDS, didn’t he? You and Sonny bonded over him.”

That was part of it, anyway, but as always, Robin saw no reason to bring it up if Dante didn’t figure it out on his own. “Yeah, we did.”

“He died, didn’t he.” Dante wasn’t really asking, his voice subdued as he spoke of the dead. Robin nodded, and something on her face must have given her away, because Dante’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh… _oh_.”

“Yeah.” Robin tucked in tighter on herself, the familiar feeling of going on the defensive appearing. She’d already had this conversation recently with Lisa; somehow, telling her patients never felt as daunting as personal situations did. “I found out I was HIV-positive just before Stone died. I’ve been living with HIV for almost fifteen years now.”

Dante swallowed. “Damn, I’m sorry. Are you okay? I mean, you must be doing pretty well to be a practicing doctor and have a kid, but still.”

“My viral load is virtually undetectable,” Robin said. “And I’ve been on a drug protocol that works for a long time.”

“So you and Sonny must have gotten pretty close after Stone got sick.” Dante filled in more of the story; Robin supposed it wasn’t that difficult once the major pieces were there. “And you stayed close after you got sick?”

Robin nodded. “Sonny took care of everything for Stone. He wasn’t afraid to hold him or touch him, back at a time when people were afraid you could catch AIDS the way you could catch a cold. He paid for doctors visits, medical care, made sure he was as comfortable as possible all the way to the end. After Stone died, Sonny was one of the people who helped me put my life back together.”

“That’s a hell of a bond to have with someone.”

“It is.” Robin relaxed a bit, since Dante didn’t seem to be looking at her any differently for knowing she had HIV. “Sonny was there for me during the worst time of my life.”

Dante dropped his eyes, nodding. “Thanks. For telling me, I mean.” His face was sincere; Robin knew he meant it, even if he didn’t really understand it. “I guess it can’t be easy to dredge up a past like that. But I appreciate you telling me that. I think it’s the first completely unselfish thing anyone’s told me about Sonny.”

“I know it doesn’t explain or excuse the rest of his life choices,” she said. “Honestly, most of the time I don’t understand how we’re still friends. But I guess I wanted you to understand that there’s a reason for _why_ I can be friends with a criminal, even knowing that he _is_ a criminal.”

Dante nodded, shifting and trying to hide a wince. It never ceased to amaze Robin how stubborn cops could be when they were injured or sick. She remembered her father being the worst patient when he’d been injured on the job when she was a child; he hadn’t been much better last year, either.

Maybe that was why she’d become a doctor: _someone_ had to keep patching the police up.

“What are you smiling about?” Dante was watching her curiously, a small smile of his own playing on his lips. Oh yeah, Robin definitely understood what Lulu saw in him.

“Nothing,” Robin giggled. “Just thinking about how cops might be worse patients than doctors.”

“Hey!” Dante tried to sit up in protest, but the sudden movement must have jarred something, because he gritted his teeth against a moan of pain.

Rolling her eyes, Robin walked to the medicine drawer kept in all ICU rooms in case doctors needed quick access to drugs. “Okay, I’ve given you enough time to say something on your own, but you are _clearly_ trying to win the prize for most stubborn police patient. And can I just say that I never thought someone would beat my father on that score.”

“I’m fine,” he hissed.

“Uh-huh. Rate your pain.”

“A four.”

Robin raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Try again.”

Dante winced again, this time not holding back a low grunt. “A six. Definitely a six.”

Robin dug through the vials that were kept in all bed-ridden patients’ rooms in case nurses or doctors needed quick access to drugs. “Here, let me give you some oxycodone.”

“Ah, no,” Dante protested. “I don’t want to keep taking that stuff.”

“Taking meds while recovering from major surgery isn’t going to keep you in here any longer than you’d have been otherwise.” She pulled some of the drug into a syringe. “In fact, not taking meds when you need them can impair your recovery.”

Dante eyed her critically. “Really?” he asked slowly, as if deciding whether this was just some doctor trick or something. “And you’re not gonna give me something that’ll make me go all loopy and like, reveal classified case information to you?”

Robin walked back to the bed and picked up his IV. “I spend a good deal of my time conducting drug research,” she said. “I promise you that I’m only giving you enough to dull the pain, not affect your senses.”

She waved the syringe in the air and at Dante’s nod, injected it into his IV. She waited a few moments, watching him carefully until he exhaled and his body started to relax. Good. He needed to be able to sleep if he wanted to heal. He was never going to get out of the hospital otherwise.

Cops really were the worst patients

***

“So I guess you’ve seen your fair share of cops get injured on the job, huh?”

“Hm?” So much for Dante sleeping. Robin had been making notes on one of her charts before she forgot what she’d wanted to say. The moments of clarity were more than she’d managed on her own in her office. “What do you mean?”

“Well, even setting aside the mob violence in this down,” his eyes dropped for a moment, “you said you grew up in a family of cops. You must have seen them coming home hurt.”

“Ah.” Robin supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that even through a haze of pain and medication, Dante remembered a throwaway comment from earlier in their conversation. “To be honest, I was always just glad when my parents came home at all.”

“I get that.” Dante’s eyes closed and he rubbed at his face, the movement no longer causing him pain. “My ma’s been a basket case the whole time I’ve been in town.”

That was understandable. Robin certainly knew what it was like to be the family member left behind, terrified of the midnight phone call or the uniformed officer at the door.

“Hell,” he laughed harshly, “she’s been a basket case ever since I’ve been a cop. But she was always proud of me before. With this…I just can’t figure out where she’s coming from in all this.”

The poor guy looked like he wanted to throw something – another impulse Robin understood. “So – and you can tell me to mind my own business – do you mind if I ask how _you’re_ doing with all of this? I mean, let’s face it,” she said, “you’ve had kind of a rough week.”

Dante choked out a surprised laugh, but he nodded. “Honestly, I don’t really know what I feel. I mean, the kids? I already liked them, and finding out I’ve got siblings is great.” He grinned at Robin, a little abashed. “I’m Italian, and sometimes it felt like I was the only person in the neighborhood who was an only child.”

“I’ve seen Morgan and Kristina around the hospital a lot this week.” Robin didn’t bother to say that she _hadn’t_ seen Michael; she had a pretty good idea of why he was staying away, and while she knew Sonny and Jason loved him, her heart broke for everything she’d failed to save him from.

“Yeah, and don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic to be their big brother.” Dante’s smile softened. “I think I’ll like being a big brother. But I’m not quite there yet, you know? Morgan especially keeps looking at me like there should be some instant family connection. Kristina seems to be a bit more…rational about the situation. But she’s really trying, and that definitely makes it easier for me.”

“Well,” Robin said, “Kristina has some experience in discovering long-lost older siblings. You know they only found out Sam was Alexis’s daughter a few years ago, right?”  
She laughed at the low whistle Dante made. “No,” he said. “I guess that explains that. Do I even want to know…?”

“That’s a very long story, and it’s probably Kristina’s to tell you.” It might even prove a good bonding experience for the new siblings.

“There’s an awful lot of long stories in this town.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Robin chuckled, leaning back and making some notes.

***

“Lulu told me your families are close. Any chance you could give me some insider scoop?”

“Well, there was the time our dads stopped Lulu’s brother’s family from freezing the world.”

“From freezing the…Oh. Is this another one of those—“

“Long stories? Yeah.” Robin patted his arm. “Don’t worry. Stick around town long enough and you’ll get used to things like that happening.”

“...Great.”

***

“So what does your dad do that he’s such good friends with the legendary Luke Spencer? I know you’re related to the Police Commissioner somehow, but I can’t really see him and Luke as bosom buddies.”

Robin almost fell out of her seat from laughing so hard. “Oh my God! My Uncle Mac would think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about him.”

“Ah, so Mac’s your uncle. Must make for interesting family dinners. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the way Lulu talks about her dad, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d hang around with the police.”

This was going to be a fun piece of information to drop on the guy. “Oh, Luke’s not. I can’t imagine how he reacted when Lucky joined the PCPD. But he’s always made an exception for my dad, though I guess he’s not technically a cop.”

“So what is he, like a private investigator?”

“ _We_ -ell…” It was easier to tell people she was HIV-positive. Seriously, who the hell had her life? “Not exactly. My dad – both of my parents, actually – are secret agents. That gives them a bit more…leeway, when it comes to how they solve problems, which makes it easier for Luke to do his own thing.”

“No way. What are they, CIA?”

“World Security Bureau. More danger, more insanity, same government salary.”

Dante’s eyes bugged out. “Damn! When I was being trained for undercover work, my lieutenant talked about the WSB’s infiltration tactics like they were holy or something. You survive a couple of undercover assignments, you start dreaming about the big leagues.”

“You even think about joining up with the WSB while you’re still with Lulu, and Maxie will skin you alive.”

“Maxie? Oh, let me guess, it’s another—“

“Long story, yeah.”

“One of these days,” Dante said, “you and Lulu are gonna have to tell me all these long stories.”

“You keep bothering the nurses and fighting your pain meds, and we’ll have _plenty_ of time to talk while you’re in here.”

***

“Can I ask you a question?” Robin flipped a chart closed. “You can tell me to mind my own business.”

Dante chuckled. “I’ve gone poking and prodding around your past tonight, doc. Ask away.”  
Robin leaned forward, resting her chin on a propped hand. “How are you doing? Really?”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean my pain this time.”

“No. You’ve been through hell this week, between getting shot and finding out you mom kept who your father was a secret for so many years… It’s enough to throw anyone for a loop.”

“My mom…” Dante blew out a breath and pressed his head against his pillows. “I don’t even know what to feel about that. I’m _so mad_ at her right now I can barely look at her. She lied to me my entire life about who I am.”

“She was trying to protect you,” Robin said, playing devil’s advocate. She’d been where Dante was now, and knew hanging on the anger any longer than was healthy caused more problems than it solved.

Dante snorted. “Yeah, well, she did a crap job. Sorry.”

“So have you just been sitting here all day fighting?” Robin asked, worried. “That’s terrible for your blood pressure. You know that stress can cause healing to slow down, right?”

“Don’t worry, we haven’t been fighting.” Dante shook his head at the memories. “Mostly, she’s either sitting in that chair reading or doing work while I give her the silent treatment, or she’s out in the lounge if someone else is in here.”

Robin felt a smile threatening to break across her face, which would be so counter-productive. “So you just sit here in silence every day, being angry at her and not doing anything to resolve it?”

“I’ve heard her rationalizations,” Dante said. “I don’t need to hear them again. She doesn’t speak unless I say something first.”

“If you’re so mad at her, why haven’t you told her to leave before tonight?” she asked, though she had a pretty good idea of the answer, having spent time around Lois Cerullo’s family. “I mean, you’ve got every right to be upset with her.”

“Are you _kidding_?” Dante gaped. “We’re _Italian_. I do that while I’m sick, no matter what got us here, and my ma will stick her head in the first oven she finds! And then I’ll have Connie in here berating me for being a poor, ungrateful son. And then while my mom is lamenting and _actually_ saying Hail Mary’s </i> and listing _every single thing_ she’s ever done for me, the rest of the family will show up for their turn. And then my grandmother will probably stick _her_ head in an oven just on principle. You know how Italian grandmothers are.” He stared, wide-eyed, and shook his head. “Tell my mother to leave, she says.”

Robin was dangerously close to bursting into laughter at his expression. “So why not just ask your doctor to bar her from visiting? I know they’ve got Sonny, Jason, and a bunch of others on a no-access list. That way, it’s your doctor’s fault and not yours.”

Dante looked at her like she was crazy. “…What part of ‘we’re Italian’ didn’t come through? You think she wouldn’t know that I asked the doctors to keep her out? And then I’d have the added guilt bonus of the family accusing me of treating my mom like the guy who shot me.” He just shook his head again. “Being Italian is a full-time job.”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Oh God, it’s a good thing that Lulu’s gotten practice dealing with insane families from the Quartermaines!” she giggled. “You know that you sound less angry with your mom than terrified of your family, right?”

“It’s not very nice to laugh at a man with a hole in his chest. And a crazy family waiting to burst out of the woodwork,” he pouted.

“Sorry, sorry.” Robin tried valiantly to get her laughter under control. “You love your family a lot, don’t you.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “And I still love my mom. But I’m just…so furious with her that it’s kind of hard to see straight. Does that make any sense?”

Robin nodded. “You’re mad because she kept something huge a secret your whole life.”

“She kept something _fundamental_ a secret,” he corrected. “I spent my whole life figuring out who I was. It’s not easy coming from my neighborhood with a mother who was apparently such a wild teenager that she didn’t know who her kid’s father was. And now I have to figure out who I am all over again.”

And there it was. Robin suspected this was what had been plaguing Dante since he woke up from the surgery. She knew how difficult it could be to reconcile the lived past with a new reality in the present. It had taken her over three years to realize that her father’s actions hadn’t changed who she was; everything Robin had become was because of her own choices, and while she’d drawn strength from her parents’ memories, she was ultimately responsible for her own life. She hoped Dante wouldn’t let himself be shaken as deeply as she’d been.

“I would like to respectfully disagree with that,” Robin said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Finding out that Sonny is your father doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t change how you grew up, the things you like and don’t like, or the choices you’ve made in your life.”

“It feels like it changes everything.” He sounded so tired, like all the fight had just gone out of him. “I’m half him. How do I know that won’t change me?”

Robin could see the worry in his eyes; she thought there was a trace of fear as well, but it vanished before she could be certain. She knew what being Sonny’s child meant. More than that, she had witnessed firsthand how nature and nurture played out under Sonny’s roof. “I really don’t think you need to worry about that. I have to ask a question that I hate myself for even thinking about: which of Sonny’s kids would you say is the most like him?”

Dante didn’t even hesitate. “Michael, no question. You know he actually came by a couple days ago to ask me to drop the charges against Sonny now that I knew he was my father?”

That didn’t surprise Robin at all. Michael had grown up completely immersed in Sonny and Jason’s world, and he had turned out exactly like them. “So, the only child who is not only not biologically Sonny’s, but who actually spent the most time around him is the one most like him. But his biological children – you, Morgan, and Kristina – are nothing like him, and want nothing to do with his business.” She smiled at Dante. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” He was somewhat subdued, but still looked troubled. “I guess I knew that Michael was adopted, but it never really occurs to you when you see them together, you know?” Dante looked at Robin curiously. “Jax was always saying he wanted Sonny in jail to protect the kids, but I never heard anyone talking about Michael’s real dad. Was he not worried about his kid being raised by a mobster?”

There was no way in hell Robin was opening that can of worms tonight. Or ever. He could ask Lulu about that if he wanted to. “You’re going to hate me, but that is a really, _really_ long—“

“—story,” he finished with a yawn. “Yeah, there seems to be a lot of that going around.”

“Sorry.” She closed her patient chart. “But do you get what I’m saying? Finding out something about your parents now doesn’t negate anything about who you’ve been up until now. It’s just one more piece of information, and you can do whatever you want with it.”

“I don’t want to have anything to do with Sonny.” He said it so flatly that it sent a shiver down Robin’s spine; she would never tell Dante how much like his father he could look and sound. “I’m a cop, and he shot me for it. Michael seems to have made up his mind that I’m still the enemy, but I like being around Morgan and Kristina.”

Robin nodded. “So maybe that’s where you start, then. Just focus on healing, on putting your case together, and on building relationships with your siblings. Everything else will happen when it happens.”

“And my mom?” Dante asked. “I hear what you’re saying about Sonny, but I still can’t help feeling like she betrayed me.”

“That will just have to come in its own time.” She smiled. “Just let yourself feel however you need to for now. You love her and your family way too much for the anger to last forever.”

“Why do I feel like you’re speaking from experience, here?”

“Okay, seriously, you seem like a great guy, but that is way too long a—“

“Oh, you are _kidding_.”

“Sorry.” Robin was not at all contrite, but that was okay, because Dante matched her cheeky grin with one of his own. “I mean it. Just work with the small stuff first, and once you’re physically better, you can start handling the big stuff.”

Dante’s smile broke with another yawn. “I guess that’s as good a plan as any.”

Robin laughed and stood up. “Ask around. I’m nothing if not an obsessive planner.”

“Well, it came in handy tonight.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, doc. For everything.”

She returned his squeeze; dropping his hand, she picked up her charts. “Yeah, well, you’re not bad company. For a guy with a hole in his chest, I mean.”

“Right.” He laughed, but he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“You want me to give you a little more pain medication?” she asked. “I’d really like it if you slept for a few hours tonight before a nurse comes in for a vitals check.”

“Nah, I really do think I can sleep now. My head feels less…crowded.”

“Now, see, if I were Luke Spencer, I’d make a dumb cop joke after something like that.” She headed for the door.

Dante snorted behind her. “Cheap shot, doc. But hey, you owe me about ten stories about Port Charles now.”

“Even if you miraculously become the ideal patient tomorrow,” Robin smiled, “you’re still going to be in here a while longer.”

“So does that mean I get more entertainment tomorrow?”

Robin grinned wickedly. “Sure. Why not. Maybe I’ll tell you about the time I dated Jason Morgan.”

“The time you _what_?”

She waved and opened the door. “Good night, Detective.”

“Night, doc. This town in insane.”

He really had no idea.

***

Robin realized as she walked back to the Nurse’s Station that she had finished all the chart notes she’d wanted to. She even felt relaxed, but not exhausted, for the first time all week. It was official: she worked best when surrounded by chaos. It was definitely Patrick’s influence.

She didn’t see the figure slip through the shadows, vial in hand, and enter the stairwell, heading for the seventh floor, and for her office.


End file.
